


Velvet on Leather

by Akibimi



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Inspired by Art, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-12-18 13:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akibimi/pseuds/Akibimi
Summary: Choi Seunghyun is a renowned painter. Diana is a troubled psychotherapist. Destiny brought them together, but are they really meant to stay that way? AU





	1. Here Comes the Rain Again

Somewhere in Lower East Side a cry of pain echoed through an apartment on the third floor.

'Fucking hell Sheila!', came a strangled yell from the bottom of my smokers lungs while I jumped up and down on one foot. I massaged the other one due to the fact that my best friend stepped on it with her incredibly high heels. While both of us fought to put our lipsticks precisely in front of a small mirror, the inevitable happened.

'If you let me do it first, you wouldn't be in that position, but look at you now', she shrugged indifferently and continued smearing a dark shade of lipstick onto her lips.

I shot her a particularly venomous glare and resisted the urge to jab her in the ribs with my elbow.

'Why the fuck do you even have those heels on? We bought this carpet a month ago. May I remind you how much it cost?', was followed by another string of profanities that would make even a sailor blush, all in an attempt to forget about the throbbing pain in my foot. An ugly red spot started spreading at the base of my index toe, thus destroying my chances of wearing anything but boots. With a great deal of effort I managed not to twist my face into an ugly grimace; something that I was known for. Foundation in my wrinkles meant ruined make-up and ruined make-up meant ruined night.

'These are not just 'those heels', these are Christian Loboutin and in this house we respect that name', she crossed herself and kissed her fingers leaving some of that awful lipstick on them.

I chose to ignore her and continue overdrawing my lips with a brown pencil. My feet were killing me. Aside from a newly-formed bruise, I had a pair of ping-pong sized blisters on the back of my feet. The pain receptors flooded my brain with signals indicating that something wrong was going on in my lower extremities and in return, it screamed at me to do something about it. Fuck you Mel and fuck your birthday dinner.

Sheila swung a latex coat over her shoulders and poured a generous amount of her expensive French perfume down her cleavage. I was about to comment how the award for looking provocative in January is a kidney inflammation when a doorbell rang. Pulling on a thick faux fur coat and thigh-high boots, I could actually hear my urinary tract sighing in relief. Better safe than sorry. I looked at the mirror for the last time. The refection in the mirror looked much better than what was happening on the inside of a person whose image it reflected according to the laws of physics that I never understood. I looked like a gorgeous house made in Bauhaus style, but with a really bad plumbing system. A nice looking residence full of shit, that’s what I was. The horrid smell it produced made decent human beings walk ten blocks around, just to avoid it. On the other side it was a feast for various vermin. Flies, rats, cockroaches, all in human form took over my life. Why I let them gorge on my body, I could not understand.

'You better stop acting like that doorbell is your father's property or else...', Sheila halted as she opened the door.

Heavily drunk Enna stumbled into our apartment with a sly grin on her face.

'Please don't tell me that you drove all the way to the Lower East Side shitfaced drunk Enna?', I caught her just before she was about to fall on her head.

'I'm not drunk. I jus' had three cocktails with Saul', she slurred emphasizing the word three.

'God Almighty really does look out for the greatest idiots of us all', I said and threw her arm around my shoulder to stabilize her.

'You are gonna get yourself either killed or imprisoned if you continue doing this. Mark my words Enna', Sheila grabbed Enna's keys that were dangling from the pocket of her jacket.

Somehow we managed to place Enna in the back of her Range Rover and finally hit the road being already majorly late. Snuggled in my warm coat, I closed my eyes hoping that a gesture as small as that would make the exhaustion that plundered my body disappear. However, my brain was its own worst enemy. Instead of creating relaxing scenarios, such as one of a peaceful forest, it decided to create a mental image of the largest vermin that ever feasted upon me. I thought that Elvis and I had something special, that we were in love. All of my friends told me that it was just good sex, post-orgasmic euphoria if you will. What they didn't know was that our break up got me crying in the bathroom of my private practice almost every day while listening to Hasta Siempre Comandante. That dirty commie crawled under my skin with the talk about social revolution and his incredibly skilled tongue. I found out that I was not the only woman who indulged herself into exploration of his kinky fantasies. The other one was his wife of five years. I couldn’t even slap the bastard because I knew that he would get a boner from it. What I could do, was empty his bank accounts and buy myself some brand new Cartier bracelets and that was exactly what I did. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. He called me numerous times begging for his money back, knowing very well that he couldn’t sue me because he signed a contract. People told me that his wife left after that. I bet that he was jerking off to all of the humiliation we had put him through for a long, long time.

My thoughts were interrupted by an intro of a familiar song.

‘Now that’s hysterical’, sarcasm oozed from my words as I continued to watch the passing lights.

‘'The warden threw a party in the county jail', Sheila started singing and dancing in her car seat.

'The prison band was there and they began to wail', miraculously Enna managed to continue the line, words twisting over her drunken tongue.

They probably expected me to continue, because only Elvis sung the third line of his famous Jailhouse Rock.

‘Oh noooooo’, came from the backseat, ’you should have sung the line Diana’

‘If you’re gonna be that moody during the whole dinner I swear I will slip one of my laxatives in either you drink or your meal’, Sheila’s voice was louder than Elvis and his band

I forced a smile and started singing because a) Sheila always carried laxatives around and b) she was crazy enough to actually act upon her threats.

Sheila pulled up in front of our favorite Japanese restaurants. I made a mental check to tell my doctor to test me on possible parasites, because the amount of raw fish I ingested every time I went out with those women was obscene. Emina was already at the table with Daesung, her boyfriend of two years. When I saw them I couldn’t help but smile genuinely for the first time in many weeks. When Enna saw them, she reacted way to loudly, the way she always did, drunk or sober. I could feel the judging eyes burning holes onto my back and the restaurant manager shook his head in embarrassment. Luckily, Sheila managed to shut her up with a fierce kick to the Achilles tendon. She contorted her face but knew better, even drunk, than to tempt Sheila.

‘Happy birthday my love, you look gorgeous as ever’, I congratulated her and pulled a gift bag out of my purse.

‘Please tell me that’s not what I think it is’, her green eyes went as wide as saucers when she saw Cartier printed on the bag.

‘Shut up, it was bought with that dog’s money. I don’t love you that much’, I laughed and kissed her cheek once more.

‘I fucking hate you Diana, you know that?’, Daesung grumbled , ‘How in the world am I going to compete against that?’

‘Oh I’m sure your love is the greatest gift of them all’, Sheila was already pouring herself a glass of sake and being her usual sarcastic self.

‘Nothing beats Cartier honey’, Emina put on an 18 carat yellow gold bracelet on her arm and marveled at it.

‘See what you did? I gotta buy her a Bentley or a Picasso now’,

‘You know, you could finally put a ring on it’, I mused while taking a sip of sake from Sheila’s glass.

Both of them started laughing nervously and exchanging awkward looks. I decided not to push the subject any further and buried my head in the menu, fully aware that I was going to order the same thing I always did for the past two years.

I was sitting in my office chair in nothing but my leather pants and a favorite pair of red soled shoes. Elvis was on his knees in front of me holding an ashtray high above his head. By slowly dragging a toe box over his rock hard manhood, I made him whimper in need and an ashtray shook in his hands.

‘Don’t you dare spilling that ashtray slave’, I threatened while inhaling a last smoke of my cigarette.

‘Yes, Mistress’, he breathed out, voice strangled by the amount of self-control he had put into not cumming then and there.

‘Open up’

He obediently opened his mouth and stuck the tongue out. The tender meat sizzled when it came to contact with my burning cigarette. A wanton moan that resonated through his rib cage immediately got me soaking wet. No one ever let me hurt them in that way and that exhilarated me. The fact that I had that kind of control over a very powerful man made my head spin with arousal.

‘What do we say?’

‘Thank you Mistress’

‘My, my. Look at the mess you made. You ruined my favorite shoes. I want them sparkling clean’, I whispered, my voice darkened with lust, and lifted my left shoe to meet his eye level.

His semen glistened under the bright neon lights of my office. When I saw his burned tongue collect his own bodily fluids, my mind went blank with sheer desire.

‘Now let’s talk about your punishment for cumming without my permission’

‘Diana. Earth to Diana’, Enna waved her hand in front of my face and I blinked a few times in an attempt to forget about the particular flashback, but to no avail.

‘I was just thinking about Elvis, that’s all’

‘Great sex makes great woman go from 0 to 100 on a mental retardation scale in no time’

‘Amen to that sister’, Emina lifted her hands above her head and giggled obviously on her way to get more drunk than Enna.

After the dinner we ended up in someone’s apartment. I had no idea where I was since I had my fair share of that sake bottle, and to be honest I didn’t care much. More alcohol was what I needed. As soon as I entered the apartment I went straight to a bar and poured myself an almost full glass of vodka. Not caring how tasteless or desperate I looked, I took a seat on a sofa, next to two women making out. A beautiful long-haired man was singing a jazzy version of ‘Here comes the rain again’ while playing a piano. His mesmerizing voice muffled the sounds that two women produced in their intense groping session. When I fully relaxed, I took a good look of people around me. The amount of strange haircuts and shawls told me that Sheila, once again, brought us to one of her artsy buddies’ place. A familiar laughter reverberated through the room. As my eyes scanned the space that surrounded me for a source of the familiar cackle, they met with a pair of flaming black ones. A strange current shot through my body and a thousand Monarch butterflies started swarming in my belly instantly. The intensity of his stare raised fine hairs on the back of my neck; it was almost as he was reading pages of my soul, one by one, finding out everything that I’d ever said, and worse, that I’d hidden from the rest of the world. I felt so vulnerable, stripped to the core. Leaning against a piano he beamed at me. Something ached deep in my chest just from the sight of his handsome face stretching into a smile. Wetness pooled in my panties and a strange sense of violation washed over me. Suddenly I went out of air, so I quickly rose up and fled the room, panic threatening to overtake me. Outside, I was about to take another swig from my glass, when I thought that vodka could be a reason that I choked.

Yes, the strong liquor numbed my throat and I couldn’t swallow. It had nothing to do with that Asian Adonis smiling at me.

A small scream of surprise escaped my lips when someone enveloped a coat around my shoulders. The glass full of vodka dropped on the floor and shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. I haven’t even noticed that I was standing outside in my backless dress in a temperature of -10 degrees Celsius, until my shaky hands involuntarily grabbed onto an unfamiliar coat. I turned around and once again I was face to face with a reincarnation of Michelangelo’s David. Shivers ran through my entire body.

‘Good heavens, darling! You are freezing. Let’s go back inside or you might catch something nastier than a cold’, his timbre voice set my insides on fire.

Finding myself unable to speak, I nodded and started walking back up stairs. I snuggled deeper into his coat and my senses became overflowed by his unique scent: a mixture of oil paint, cigarettes and Dior Homme. It invaded my nostrils and went straight between my legs. His overpowering presence was swallowing my entire being and my knees almost betrayed me. I felt it all over my body; it found its way into every nook and cranny. That was when I started questioning the state of my intoxication. As soon as I got into the apartment again I pushed the coat off of my shoulders, handing it to him.

‘Thanks’, I mumbled not having strength to look him directly into the eyes.

That man was a wizard, a powerful warlock. He put a dangerous hex on me because my body really wanted to stay in his proximity, yet my mind was screaming at me to get away. I searched the room for Sheila and found her giggling in a red-haired man’s lap. Taking my coat from a pile near the door and completely ignoring the strange man’s presence, I walked over to her and bid my farewell.

‘I’m afraid I would do something stupid if I stay’, I explained and pointed my head towards a man that shook my entire being.

She advised me to take care of myself and returned her gaze to a handsome man underneath her.

Just as I was about to exit the room, he grabbed my hand

‘At least tell me your name’

I almost cried out from the strange feeling that possessed my body as his skin touched mine. In that millisecond I saw my whole life.

‘Diana’, I whispered not even sure that he heard me.

I ran down the stairs once again, heels clicking against cool metal and tears pouring down my cheeks and chin. Tears of pure terror. Never in my life, had I met a man that had such a powerful effect on me. When I was younger, my mother told me stories about witches and magic and how certain people would sell their soul to the devil to obtain supernatural powers. She was the type of woman who blamed magic for everything wrong in her life. If she had a fight with my father she would blame our next door neighbor for bewitching him. If our garden flowers died she would usually say that someone looked at them with an evil eye. At that time I laughed at her vivid imagination, but after I encountered him I started thinking that the old lady was onto something.

No, no, no. It was all vodka. It had to be vodka. I will never drink again in my life. The state of my consciousness was altered by the elevated levels of alcohol in my blood. That’s all.

My mother never took any responsibilities for her own actions and I promised myself never to be like her for as long as I breathe. I finished smoking the cigarette that I didn’t remember lighting up and looked around to see where I was. Caught up in my own thoughts I walked five blocks in a wrong direction.

A Vicodin and 8 hours of sleep will make everything better, I told to myself as I hauled a cab.


	2. Take Me to Church

I was awoken by the monotonous sound of the alarm clock. Looking around, I realized that I fell asleep in the living room. My hair was drenched with sweat as I had fallen asleep in my coat. I winced, as soon as I sat up, feeling as someone repeatedly hit me in the upper part of a forehead with a morning star. The pain synchronized with my heartbeat and I promised myself that never again would my lips be touched by a drop of alcohol. Discarding incredibly heavy coat from my shoulders, I put on my bunny slippers and started my quest for pain killers, really strong ones. As I entered a kitchen, a cloud of smoke attacked me and I started coughing viciously. Not only did it worsen my headache, it also caused all of my stomach content to rise up in my throat. Swallowing heavily, I built up strength to cross the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water.  It was 8 a.m. and Sheila managed to smoke the whole entire pack of cigarettes. Just as she opened her mouth to say something I waved her off and walked out of the room in a desperate need of shower.

I had a morning routine that under no circumstances should be disturbed. It was my way of adjusting to the fact that I was awake after my almost comatose like sleep. There could be a zombie apocalypse outside, a magnitude 6 earthquake or a nuclear war, I wouldn’t care. All I needed was at least an hour of silence and peace in order to function like a normal human being.  A part of that routine was to grab a cold to-go coffee from a fridge on my way out.  As soon as I reentered the kitchen my attention was drawn to a piece of paper stuck to a fridge with our Eiffel Tower magnet.

‘For Diana’, was written in cursive in the middle of it.

As I said, I didn’t let anything disturb my wake up routine so I stuffed it into my pants’ pocket and proceeded to grab my coffee.

The rest of the day I spent rubbing my temples and writing down my clients symptoms, questioning them about various things I considered important, tracking down their progress and advising them on what they should achieve during the week. Sometime around 4 p.m I finally found time to pee. During the process a letter from the morning fell on the tiles. I cringed internally and picked it up, already thinking how I need to wash my hands and throw the paper away.

‘I need to see you again. Monday, 5 p.m. Metropolitan Museum. Seungyhun’

I gawked at the letter and then at my wrist watch and then letter again, all while still seated on a toilet seat. It was 4:15 p.m.

If I leave now, I might be able to make it in time. But do I really want to go?, I asked myself.

I didn’t have the courage to look at the mirror knowing very well that my freshly washed hair had a will of its own. I tied it in a messy bun and brushed my teeth.

Then I heard a knock on the door.

‘If you’re crying because of that son of a bitch again Diana, I swear…’, David, my personal assistant, talked from the other side of the door.

‘I’m not. I’m just freshening up’, I spoke while opening the door for him.

Still not convinced, he took my head in his hands and inspected my face and eyes thoroughly.

‘Alright. Thank God. I was already going through a mental archive of all the crime documentaries that I watched, trying to find a most painful way to end his life’, he hugged me tightly.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, your scrawny ass wouldn’t last a day in prison’

‘Talking about my scrawny ass, I need to leave earlier. I’m meeting up with that guy I told you about’

‘The one with a huge dick?

‘Exactly’, his eyes sparkled form a mere thought of it

‘I never pegged you for a size queen David. It still fascinates me’

‘Oh darling, you know how they say, don’t judge a book by its cover’, he winked and grabbed his coat.

‘Wait up, David. Do you think you could give me a ride to a Metropolitan Museum?’

‘Sorry my love, I’m going in the opposite direction. Do you want me to call you a cab?’

It was snowing for the first time that year when I got into the back of an infamous yellow car. Snowflakes were dancing in the air, looking like they are doing a wild tribal dance whose purpose was to lure out the god of sun so he could take them to their death. I closed my eyes in an attempt to chase away the feeling of dread that started overtaking me. His face immediately invaded my thoughts. The sharpness of his jawline made my salivary glands go into an overdrive. It looked as if it was painted by a hand of a skillful Renaissance painter. The man had the blackest hair that I had ever seen in my entire life, reminding me of the dark October nights that I had spent in Colorado mountains.  I shook my head couple of times to get his picture out of my mind but to no avail. I voluntarily opened my mouth, just to find myself unable to tell the driver to stop. Some strong force was pulling me towards him.

I stood in front of the Met museum for solid 15 minutes, contemplating whether to go in or not, before I finally took a step in because my ears went numb from cold.

Lamassu that I stared at seemed to stare back at me.  I remembered reading that people of ancient Mesopotamia considered them protectors of the household. They were originally female, but as always, men felt threatened by a depiction of powerful women, so they decided to put a beard on it. I took a step closer to it, hoping that a Babylonian demon carved out of stone would guard me from the mesmerizing eyes of the dark magician, who awakened a thunderstorm in my heart.  Anxiety born in the back of a cab grew stronger to the point of panic.

That’s when I saw him standing a few feet away from me and watching me intensely. I froze. My own feet didn’t listen to my brain commanding them to move, choosing to tremble instead. It took all of the strength that I got not to fall on the floor. People always talked about the fight or flight instinct, completely ignoring the existence of freeze response. I could not flee, he would chase after me; I could not fight him even if I wanted to. He got me trapped.  Then I started thinking about playing dead. If it worked for mice, it could work for me.

Do something Diana, move an arm, move a facial muscle, anything, my brain was screaming his lungs out at me.

He was approaching me at an alarming rate with a heavenly smile on his face. I started suffocating in a tornado of thoughts and emotions, each of them psychically hurting me in the process. My muscles were so tense that I thought all of them would snap and fall off my body.  When he finally reached me and warped his hands around me, I got freed from my catatonic stupor and fell into his arms eagerly.  I could hear him inhaling my scent and sighing contently. His scent, on the other hand, opened a faucet between my legs.  I could have never imagined that the smell of oil paint could be that erotic. All I wanted was for him to take me then and there in front of a 4,500 years old statue of a scary deity. I could bet my sweet ass that it wouldn’t be the kinkiest thing that it saw with its old lifeless eyes.  He held me so tightly against him, that it seemed like he wanted to merge with me.

‘I thought that you weren’t coming. I looked all over for you’, he whispered in my ear.

I couldn’t make a sound. All I did was bury my head deeper into his coat. He caressed my neck with his surprisingly warm fingers and I mewled quietly.

‘Do you want me to take you out for a glass of wine or do you want to stay here?’, he asked taking a step away from me.

‘I need a drink’, I managed to choke out

‘I know a great place’, he said and took my hand in his.

Thanks for nothing mister macho demon, I turned my head to give the clueless statue a stink eye.

 

While we were walking down the street, hand in hand, I thought about my next move.  The best solution was to beg him to fuck me senseless. That way I would get my release and maybe he would see me as an easy lay. Best case scenario: he would leave me alone. I thought about how I’m going to cry while he fucks me, how I’m going to select the dirtiest words from my vocabulary to scream incoherently.  Small part of my consciousness rebelled against the notion, but was quickly silenced by the larger part that was sick and tired of licking the wounds that never seemed to heal. For a while a war raged in my mind: one side was fighting for him, for the prospect of new love while the other wanted to prevent the inevitable pain and suffering.

Suddenly I flinched.

‘Take me to your place’, I spoke calmly

He just smiled and continued walking.


	3. Lolita

His place smelled exactly like him and it only heightened my arousal. I rubbed my thighs in order to get at least some kind of friction and get rid of the uncomfortable dampness. Strange noises were coming from what I assumed to be a living room and when we entered it we were greeted by a couple having sex. A woman was sitting in a longhaired man’s lap and grinding her hips hard against his. A man looked me straight in the eye and I almost came from that act alone. He proceeded to lick his lips and press them against woman’s neck. The strange sense of recognition washed over me. I definitely saw him somewhere. The noises that the female was making would be envied by the residents of Sodom and Gomorrah.  They didn’t seem bothered by our arrival. Instead a woman turned her head and smiled.

‘Hello Seunghyun, care to join us?’

‘Sorry Leah, I have a guest’

She bit her lip in a flirtatious manner.

‘I wouldn’t mind her joining in as well’

My already red face darkened a few shades and yet I couldn’t take my eyes off of the mesmerizing motion of their bodies. Seunghyun dragged me out of the room and into the kitchen.

‘Sorry about that. They are utterly shameless’, Seunghyun spoke and turned to grab two glasses from the liquor cabinet.

‘Have you ever joined them?’, curiosity got the best of me

His deep laugh echoed through the kitchen and mixed with Leah’s sinful moans.

‘No, I’m more of a one woman guy. Besides I don’t want my balls clapping against my buddies’’, he answered and handed me a glass half filled with amber liquid.

I sighed in relief and hopped onto the kitchen counter.

‘You know, I bet you can make me scream louder’, I raised my eyebrow and took a sip of what seemed to be cognac.

All I could do was whimper when he trapped me between his heavy body and the kitchen counter.  His lips crashed onto mine with a ferocious force. I moaned loudly at the feeling of his silky lips on mine. A thousand bonfires ignited in my stomach in a matter of seconds, it felt as if I was on fire. My hands went straight into his slicked hair to pull it roughly. Seunghyun growled and placed his palms on my rear squeezing it tightly. That had me rolling my hips against his.

'Are you always this eager babygirl?', he grunted while unbuttoning my shirt.

Then he leaned down to bury his face in between my breasts. The feeling of his hot tongue dragging along the delicate skin had my eyes rolling in the back of my head.

His laughter vibrated against my skin as the wanton facial expression didn't go unnoticed by him.

'Stop laughing and fuck me already', I growled and tugged on his hair harder this time.

'I don't fucking think that you're in any position to boss me around doll', he retorted and pressed his hard length against my very hot and very wet crotch. I could feel every inch of it even through the rough material of his jeans.

'Would you look at that', he spread my legs to take a better look at the wet spot that formed in between them on my grey trousers.

My face heated up to a dizzying temperature and I tried to close my legs, but that only made him push them farther apart. All I wanted in that moment to be fucked to death by him.

'Do you know just how much I love eager little sluts like you?', he scraped my earlobe with his teeth.

In response I grabbed his head and kissed him passionately, teeth colliding with teeth, tongues dragging against each other creating a pleasurable friction.  He pulled me off of the counter by holding onto my waist band and dragged my pants down as soon as my feet touched the ground, turning me around in the process.

Suddenly I felt a jolt of tingling pain shoot through my body as his palm connected with soft skin of my right gluteus. I whimpered and braced myself for the next one, hands gripping tightly onto the smooth surface of the kitchen counter.  It was twice as hard as the previous one. The fact that Seunghyun didn't have any mercy on me and treated me like the filthiest whore turned me on beyond imagination.  I really wanted to take my final breath with his dick buried deep inside of me. That thought alone made me moan in pure ecstasy.

His hand entangled in my hair and he pulled on it painfully hard while pressing himself against my butt.

'Seunghyun, please. Fuck me. I need to feel you inside of me', I cried out in pleasure trying desperately to keep a hold on the slippery surface under my fingers.

He let go of my hair. I heard him unbuckle his belt and soon after the tip of his dick was sliding in me without any warning. Not that I needed one. I was dripping wet, juices trickling down my thigh. I pressed my cheek against the cold kitchen tiles for some additional support but when he slid it all the way in I almost collapsed. Thank God he had a hard grip on my hips to keep me in place, nails digging into my silky skin.

And then he started moving. His thrusts were slow and shallow at the beginning, purposefully torturing my sopping cunt. I could feel myself going mad with desire so I tried to move my hips to meet his but failed miserably.

'Please, Seunghyun. Please fuck my pussy. Can’t you see how wet it is just for you?', I managed to breathe out in between lustful moans.

'Louder', came behind me.

'Seunghyun please, I beg of you, fuck me harder. I need it. I need all of it'

Then he thrusted so hard that I let out a small scream of pleasure. Soon his hand warped around my neck pulling me towards him as he continued with his short and deep thrusts. The lack of oxygen mixed with his pounding made the knot in my lower stomach start to untie rapidly.

He growled into my ear when he felt my pussy contracting around him and applied more pressure on my windpipe.

The knot finally came undone and my vision blurred as I gasped for air desperately. Vision of hot, white pleasure appeared before my eyes and I collapsed onto the counter, legs shaking violently. He fell on top of my back rasping loudly. When I finally caught my  breath I realized that Seaunghyun released his hot seed somewhere deep inside of me.

His hand was gently caressing my bruised neck while he planted hot, wet kisses on my neck and what was exposed of my shoulder.

'You certainly lived up to my expectations babygirl', I heard him say after he pulled out of me.

'Yeah I bet we put on one hell of a show'

'You did', came a response from the man in the living room.

Both of us laughed as he helped me pull on pants and panties.

‘Do you mind me using your tits for my art?’

‘Pardon me?’, I halted in the middle of buttoning my shirt

‘I find them really fabulous; I really want to paint them’

‘Fabulous? Really, Seunghyun?  Are you sure that you’re not fucking that pretty boy out there?’, I laughed and went to undo the buttons I did.

‘This way’, he took my hand and led me to his studio.

‘I think I have a better idea’, he said while taking a bucket of blue paint.

I shivered from the low temperature in the studio. My nipples hardened immediately and my hands flew to cover them.

‘I need you to relax and put your hands down for this’, he took a step closer, now with a brush in his hand.

I did what he told me and he started applying paint on my breasts. A yelp escaped my lips as soon as the cold, wet paint made contact with my skin.

‘I think it would be better if you painted on me with your hands’, I whispered still trembling from cold.

His hands found my breasts and started smearing the blue paint on while watching me. Once again Seunghyun managed to lure out a lecherous moan out of my mouth.  His forehead connected with mine, as his slim fingers found my hard nubs and began toying with them. Seunghyun pulled and twisted, rolled them between his thumb and index finger and all I could do was fight for air as sexual desire grew larger and larger every passing second. One of his hands moved south and dragged a streak of paint down my stomach. Every nerve ending on my body was on fire almost as if I would combust at any given moment. His lips found mine and then I realized how much I had missed them there. They were made for mine, they were my perfect match. Then I realized that Seunghyun wasn’t a dark enchanter sent from the Devil himself to ruin my life, but rather a gift of God in a form of a soul mate. That epiphany mixed with a strangely induced orgasm punched me straight into the stomach and I exhaled loudly into his mouth.

‘Did you just...’, he asked with a smirk plastered on his handsome face.

‘Yeah’, was all I managed to muster.

‘Fuck, that was the sexiest thing I have seen in my life’, he said while bending down to pick up a blank canvas.

‘Well I can certainly see that’, I laughed while looking at his prominent erection.

‘Want to take care of that?’

‘I’m sorry but I really need to go home as soon as you finish whatever you’re planning to do with this mess’

‘I was hoping we could grab something to eat. Have a proper first date, you know’, he lifted an eyebrow while warping me in a canvas

‘Actually you trying to mummify me is an excellent first date if you ask me.  We can have  dinner some other time. I’m already behind schedule’, I blatantly lied, feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable.

He didn’t say anything and continued to pat the canvas on various places trying to get the paint to stick to it evenly.

‘You are going to be a masterpiece Diana’, he finally spoke when he took the white material off of me.

‘I already am’, I winked and pulled on my shirt.

‘You know you just ruined your shirt forever’

‘Oh well, what a small price to pay to have my boobs immortalized by a painter. Goodbye Seunghyun’


	4. Empire State of Mind

When I entered my apartment an utter darkness welcomed me. Seunghyun’s semen seeped out of me as I bent to unzip my boots. Rubbing my thighs together I entered the kitchen to get a glass of water. All of the yelling and screaming from earlier irritated my throat and caused constant urge to cough.

‘Where have you been? I was worried sick about you’, came from a dark corner of the kitchen and caused me to drop the glass into the sink.

‘What the actual fuck Sheila? You want to give me a heart attack or something?’, I clutched my chest and turned on the light.

‘I called the hospitals and police stations to look for you after you didn’t pick up your phone’, she came and hugged me from the back inhaling post-coital smells from my hair and skin.

‘I went to this guy’s place hankering for a fuck. Calm down mom’

‘Next fucking time call me for God’s sake. I thought Elvis sent a hit-man on your ass’

‘He doesn’t have balls or money to pull off something like that’, I said kissing her forehead with my cold lips.

‘So who is the new guy?’, she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively

‘I don’t want to talk about it. I have to take a shower. His seed is oozing out of my pussy’

‘How many times have I told you to use the damn protection, Diana?’

‘You know I’m sterilized mom’

Sheila knew very well that I was sterilized when I was 21. She had been there through the whole process making a doctor question my sexuality and my choices. Ever since I became aware of my body and sexuality, some time in my early teenage years, my worst fear was pregnancy.  Some people feared spiders, others suffered from claustrophobia and there was Diana, paralyzed by fear of pregnant women. The mere sight of a gravid woman would cause bile to rise up in my throat and my heart rate quickened to the point I thought that it would somehow found its way to climb up my trachea, larynx and pharynx and jump out of my mouth. I was haunted by the visions of my hips widening, belly stretching, vagina prolapsing, teeth falling out. Not to mention the severity of birth pains. Kids were even worse. I categorically refused to be in the room where diapers changed. The sound of a child crying felt like someone was hammering nails into my skull. So I waited a long time to lose my virginity.  The anxiety caused my vagina to be dryer than Sahara dessert. I tried every possible relaxation technique: breathing, alcohol, sedatives, weed. Nothing helped. My mind was filled with catastrophic scenarios, all of them involving pregnancy.  Each sexual encounter was horrifyingly painful as I was squeezing my vaginal muscles so tightly it felt like I was being raped over and over again.  Even though each of my partners was wearing condoms, I felt the need to take birth control.  Poor is the woman who relies on a man. They were weak in their sexual desire, maddened by the thought of a warm and wet pussy around their dicks.  I finally gathered enough courage to visit a psychiatrist and she suggested sterilization when she saw just how crippling my fear was. She also signed a paper confirming that I was sane enough for the procedure. I remember thanking her and all of the women that had fought for our rights and freedom. However, in a society where a woman’s value is determined by her reproductive potential and chastity, I was seen as a heartless monster; the ultimate whore of Babylon.

You’re going to regret it.

It is just a phase.

Kids are the greatest gift of them all.

Who will take care of you when you get older?

You are so selfish.

You should be doing it because it’s perfectly natural.

Eventually, I stopped talking about it. Many people mentioned how it would be difficult for me to find a man who will love and respect me.

If a man only loves me only because he hopes that one day I would be pushing out his babies, then I don’t need his love, was my response each and every time.

They saw me as a nature’s biggest mistake and I was okay with that title, because in the end it was my life and I wanted to live it on my own terms. I knew that I would be an awful mother; selfish and self-indulgent. My child would suffer greatly because I had no idea what it was like to sacrifice my own needs for the sake of others.  Truth to be said, I didn’t want to know, and I was a decent enough to realize it.

‘Okay but what about STD’s?’

‘Neće grom u koprive’, I spoke in fluent Bosnian, not being able to find an English phrase to accurately articulate my point.

One could roughly translate it as ‘A lightning will never strike the nettles’. The proverb stemmed from Slavic mythology and is related to a badass god named Perun.  Slavic equivalent of a mighty Zeus, he was a god of thunder and lightning. In the old days, when the Slavs lived a life that has not been fully explored yet, the thunderbolt in most cases left a trail behind, and where the thunder struck, the fire appeared.  On the other hand, the nettle leaf has many tiny prickles which create a burning feeling when they come in a contact with skin.  Since the fire from heaven comes from god Perun, it was believed that the highest god of the pantheon and nettles were related, because each produced a fire in its own way.  It was a perfect analogy. I was already seen as a disease of the society, threating to poison the minds of young women who were willing to listen to my arguments against well-established system. In the eyes of patriarchy I was as destructive as AIDS or syphilis. A virus couldn’t become ill because of another virus. Freud would call my reasoning rationalization, a defense mechanism in which controversial behaviors or feelings are justified and explained in a seemingly rational or logical manner to avoid the true explanation, and are made consciously tolerable—or even admirable and superior—by plausible means. In other words I just chose to enjoy the raw, skin on skin, contact and my mind found its way to repress the potential risks.

I woke up the next morning with an incredible bitterness in my mouth. It stuck to my teeth and palate tantalizing my gag reflex. Sheila slept right next to me and her hair was all over my face and lips. Like Medusa’s snake hair it seemed to move on its own, tickling my nostrils. I knew that if I sneezed I would vomit all over her and my silky bed lining. That day was not a laundry day so I ran to the bathroom, barely arriving on time to spill the contents of my stomach in the bathtub. For a long time I just stared at the mixture of a barely digested Chinese noodles and my gastric acid, as if I tried to foretell my future from it.  The smell was so putrid that I started questioning my diet choices. Nevertheless, I lighted up a cigarette to amplify the mixture of odors, mostly because the emptiness started crawling its way into my belly. That kind of emptiness had nothing to do with the lack of nutrients in my system and everything with the lack of Sasha’s hands on my body.  I let the shower rinse the malodourous concoction before I stepped in it, fully clothed, ready to wash the feeling of despair off of me.  No matter how hard I scrubbed my skin, even to the point of blood, it persistently hung in the air around me. The steaming hot water poured over my skin and left ugly red marks that turned to blisters. My dissociations numbed my body to the point of analgesia. That coping mechanism helped me stay sane during painful intercourses and vicious self-harming sessions. I was distancing myself from both physical and emotional pain. This happened every time a new man entered my life. Every one of them would awaken an insatiable thirst for love in me. From the moment he showed the slightest interest in me, I would start imagining our life together. I would dream of the lazy Sunday mornings, endless conversation about a movie that we had watched, dinners I would prepare for him wearing nothing but stockings,  museums visits and kisses between paintings. I yearned for bouquets of flowers, gifts, kisses and passionate sex. Raw and unadulterated love was what I craved the most. All of my desires stemmed from the fact that I never felt truly loved in my life.  Every relationship turned out to be a wild goose chase. I never got what I wanted and that's why after each of my ex-boyfriends i had to go through a detoxification period; a period when I would try to flush the images of love out of my system, a period in which I would not ask for male attention, a period in which I would have to be painfully alone to gather strength to carry on.

David stared at me, worry written all over his face, as I sat in the waiting room across from him. A client canceled her appointment so I spent the first hour of work listening to the cacophony unique to New York City. In the distance, police sirens could be heard. They mingled with the engine sounds produced by countless cars that moved painfully slow through jammed streets. From time to time, a loud screech of the tire could be heard followed by a loud swear word. In its own special way, this harsh discordant mixture of sounds managed to calm me down on the molecular level. That one of a kind power of the Big Apple reminded me why I decided to move there. Even since I was a little girl, I was fascinated by the ability of big cities to suck you in. In the metropolis one could never meet its entire population, even if his or hers life depended on it. Growing up in a small town, which was controlled by fear and shame, took its toll on my mind. The feeling of constant surveillance followed me for a long time, even after I’d arrived in New York.  Little Bosnian voyeur in my own head prevented me from expressing my true self for many years. He was watching my every action and jerking off every time I did something that was against my nature. When I finally evicted him, I became free.  I could no longer hear my mother’s condescending  voice telling me that I shouldn’t behave in a certain way nor could I feel my father’s judging eyes on me.  In New York I found the anonymity that I craved for so intensely. It had warped me in its graffiti covered hands where I found the much needed comfort.  I realized that I was the one who pulled the strings of my own destiny. Options were numerous: I could move to another part of town, quit my job, change my hair-color.  I didn’t need to see the eyes of the demon who possessed my soul in the strangest and most delicious way ever again. That illusion of control made me smile probably for the first time that morning.

‘There’s my girl’, David squeaked excitedly

‘I’ve been through worse shit than this David. Many tried to claim my soul and failed’

‘You know, I’ve learned a lot working for you, the most important thing being that I am always in control of my emotions. I realized that nothing could ever hurt me again, simply because I wouldn’t let it’, he passed me a strawberry glazed doughnut.

I took a bite and nodded my head, hating myself for not listening to my own advice.

‘Be a dear and pull out a file on Robert, you know the young boy with bulimia’

‘Is his father coming?’, David batted his eyelashes at me in a seductive manner.

‘You fucking slut. He’s a married man and straight’, I feigned shock still stuffing my mouth with the delicious carb bomb.

‘Oh honey, he is 100% gay. My gaydar is always right’

‘We have to focus on the kid David. Tell me what would you do next?’


End file.
